The Conversion Bureau: The Resistance
by TheCrazyMan
Summary: Stories set in this universe never really outline why the Human Liberation Front exists. So here's my attempt to divulge the origins of the HLF.


"Ready?" he asked, the instrument in his hands ready to serve it's sole purpose. I nodded, readying my own, and turning to the men assembled behind me.

"When the van stops, we all get out. Act normal, and then start when I give you the signal. Remember men, today we make history." I said, sliding the device deep inside my trench coat, hooking it on to my belt. The van stopped, and I needed, throwing open the door.

We all jumped down out of the van, the crisp Autumn air biting my nose. I looked up, the bright pastel pink lettering on the "clinic" puking it's way out to us"Conversion Bureau". Where so-called men came to sell their souls, as we were about to. I hated to do this, but the escalation in violence on their part left us no choice.

Ever since the bubble opened, and the ponies streamed through into our reality, humanity's wishes had taken a backseat. We had stopped "negotiating" a long time ago, the threat of magic forcing our leaders to lay down arms. If there's one thing humanity does, however, it's create our own magic. In fact, an Equestrian shield can't stop a bullet, but the threat was all there. So humanity was forced to become second-class citizens. We were the last to eat, the last to sleep, and the hardest working. So I could understand the beckon of Ponification, hell, I felt it now. The idea of starting over came at a cost. The ponies saw it as a simple loss of hands, but Humanity is stubborn and proud and anything. It was selling your soul, but when diminishing food lines, and being treated as essentially sub-sentient, something called for a change. So we had decided it was time to change.

I opened the door, my face proud. Too proud for what was about to happen, but I steeled myself. I walked up to the counter, looking down at the four-foot tall candy-colored horse in front of me. It disgusted me, as a cynic. These things were the exact opposite of humanity. We had been near forced to bow to their "God", Celestia. The fact they despise scientific enhancement, unless it helps them didn't help their case.

"One, please" I uttered, disgusted with the words. I was human dammit, I should never be saying anything along those lines! But I had to, for my survival, for our survival. My friends, my family. I steeled myself with thoughts of them.

I grabbed the handle of the shotgun, motioning to the people behind me. They produced similar weapons, all ready to fire. My finger squeezed the trigger, the soft flesh of the pony in front of me giving way to cold, hard buckshot. I jumped up on the counter, ready to shout out the speech I had spent all night preparing.

"Padre, give 'er last rights" I said, motioning to the downed pony. The elderly priest nodded, going to the dying animal. "LISTEN UP! WE ARE THE HUMAN LIBERATION FRONT! FOR TOO LONG HAS HUMANITY CHOKED UNDER EQUESTRIAN AGRESSION! We have been tormented to conditions Humanity has not seen since the Twentieth Century, and by the species who claims to come in peace! We are not going to take this sitting! We are going to stand up and fight! You who give this poison, what right do you have to replace someone's personality with another? And you who take it, even if not to betray your race, just to get another bite of food, to survive, why? Why would you betray your own people? So I have a message for your "gpds", for your leaders, for your living super weapons. Be ready. Because Humanity will not go quietly into the night! We will, as we always have, stand and fight!"

I jumped down, the bewildered group of races in the building trembling. "Smoky, burn it down." I said, and another man threw a Molotov cocktail into a group of recent transformations. I hated to do this but this was no longer about the individual, it was about the survival of a species. Still, it hurt me to see anything burn alive. The fire started to spread, catching on the curtains, the magazines, anything that could light. We ran, police sirens clearly audible in the night. I jumped into the truck with the others, as the few survivors ran from the burning building. The fire lit up the night like a torch, a beacon of sanity in the night. We drove back into the city, the deed done. We were on the map now. We were a faction in the eternal chess game.

Only time would tell if we were pawns or kings, but one things was certain-we would not stop, we wouldn't stop until we were thrown in a thin, makeshift grave like our families were, like our friends were. And we would avenge them. Wait, maybe I'm starting a bit too far. Let me tell you how this all began…


End file.
